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I made a huge mistake leaving Sadie last night, but I panicked. She got to me reveal my fox heritage. I hate that part of me, the memories of how I suffered for being less than full wolf, and the fear of what might happen if she tells anyone. Yet in the end, she didn’t seem to care about me being a mixed shifter. No, she’d concentrated on tearing into an even more crucial part of my identity.
Being a marshal has been my life since I graduated high school. It gave me purpose, and picking between the marshals and a mate never made much sense.
Most marshals have mates who are happy with their destined love’s choice of occupations. Or they seem happy enough at the office picnics and parties where I see them. Come to think of it, I’m not sure those spouses are fated mates. Maybe they’re just partners who work to make their marriages stick through communication or feelings or other things I’m not great at. I should’ve stayed and talked to Sadie despite the creep factor of the sea hags and swamp on a dark, moonless night.
Now, I’ve had zero sleep, I’m coughing up soot from the fire, Captain Zaleski has told me I’m useless on this investigation and probably losing my badge, and I’ve lost my mate. I pull out the crime scene photos from the Tucker house and toss them on the table in my cabin, desperate to find whatever I missed.
“Screwed up with Sadie, huh?” Stone asks through the screen door. At least he’s in his human blacksmith form and not roaring at me as a grizzly despite the stink eye his mate gave me earlier.
“That obvious?” I stack the photos, hiding the crime scene snapshots behind a picture of the Tucker family home. “Come on in. I just got here myself. About to grab a drink. Want something?”
“Got honey beer?”
Bears and their honey. “Yep.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” He ducks to come through the door. Thank the gods my borrowed cabin has furniture that won’t break under bear shifter weight. “It’s been a long day at the school with all the scared folks dropping in to meet with both our mates. Or I assume Sadie’s your mate with the hound dog look you’ve got going.” He motions in a circle toward his face and does sad panda eyes way too well.
I hand him a cold one from the fridge, debate taking a non-alcoholic seltzer, and decide screw it, if I’m going to be miserable, at least I won’t be drinking bear-friendly booze alone. “She told me I need to choose the marshals over her.”
“And you told her there’s no choice because a mate’s forever and being a marshal’s a job, right?”
“Being a marshal to help people’s my calling, and can’t I have both?”
“No.” Stone stares at me as if one word’s all I’m getting. Damn sullen bears. If he was the mountain lion, I would be begging him to shut up. Instead, I’m going to have to pry an answer from him.
“Care to explain?”
“I’m not saying you suck as a marshal but you haven’t solved the shifter murders while you’ve been here and the visiting sow shifter died.”
“I’m good at my job.” I can’t believe I’m defending myself to a damn bear who spends his time teaching pigtailed Nymphs how to poke at things with a pointy stick. “This is the only case I haven’t solved.”
He taps a photo of Sadie’s family home with the wooden sign that says Welcome to the Tuckers. Sit a Spell. “And this one.”
“Same killers,” I explain, but he doesn’t look impressed.
“Your mate died and was granted another chance as a Fury. Why would you stay with a ‘calling’ that doesn’t seem all that rewarding if you can have your forever love? Only a wolf would make this decision hard. Or be selfish about wanting it all.”
He’s as big of a jerk as I am. Worse, I think he might be right. “You see Sadie today?” I ask, no matter that I probably sound like a lovesick pup. The mating bond let me know that she’d been at the school, bringing worried colors in waves. But I’d been stuck with my captain all day until she escorted me here a few minutes ago and ordered me to sit, stay, and not screw anything else up.
“She, her sisters, Tisia, and a bunch of Gorgons used my school to hand out protection spells to anyone who wanted them.”
“It looked like you had over half the Houses there from the hordes headed your way.” While I’d been answering uncomfortable questions from Captain Zaleski about riots, bombs, and the dead shifter. “I guess everyone wanted some.” Further proof I’ve massively failed at my objectives here.
“They’re afraid,” he says. “If painting sigils on their skin and holding charms while praying to the gods gives them hope, I’ll host every House member, every human, every shifter from here to the witch sanctuaries on the other coast.”
“Prayers won’t stop bombs.”
“Guess that’s your job since you’re set on being a marshal.” He lifts his bottle. “You look like shit, by the way. If I’d known, I would’ve brought over some of Sadie’s salve.”
Most of the bruises from the Nymph’s beating on me have gone. I got a few new ones from the fire and trying to pull the hotel’s kitchen apart. But mostly, I’m exhausted. “Smoke inhalation. Apparently it’d keep a human down for a week or so. A little rest and I’ll be good.”
“Your captain put you on the marshal’s version of house arrest, didn’t she?” He must’ve seen Zaleski and I arguing earlier.
“Yep. She’s pissed. I got the rundown on all the ways I’ve broken policies and procedures starting with Sadie and ending with running into the fire. So I’m back to wearing my assigned party costume without being allowed to attend the party.” I pull aside my blazer to show the star-shaped badge alongside the holstered pistol that’s considered contraband in Syn City.
“Your boss out investigating?”
“She ordered me to sit tight a few minutes ago while she left here with a bunch of Huntresses to demand an audience with the Syndicate.”
